


Bite That Binds

by Hollowg1rl



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Werewolf Hermione Granger, human fenrir greyback, reverse!fenmione, werewolf muggleborns
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-04
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2019-01-29 13:05:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12631656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hollowg1rl/pseuds/Hollowg1rl
Summary: Hermione isn't the bookworm, no, she's the leader of a pack of Muggleborn Werewolves under then banner of Voldemort, and she has one mission. Bring Fenrir Greyback to heel at her Master's side. The Creeveys and Dean? Bring their 'brother' back to the fold. Werewolves should always stick together, right? Remus Lupin just needs to be reminded of his real home.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for Dulce de Leche Go's SpookyScaryDulceween on Tumblr, and just getting around to posting here and on FFnet. This is a mature story and this is only the first part. More to come soon!

Voldemort sat running his long bony fingers through the tangled curls of his pet werewolf. It wasn’t a full moon, but the glowing amber eyes of his pet reflected the firelight from the hearth in ways only a monster could enjoy. She was his perfect weapon, this mudblood werewolf, and he was debating the merit of his latest plan to bring more followers to his side. The Greyback family had ignored his summons the first time around over ten years ago, back when his army was still in its infancy. Quite literally in fact.

Now, however, was the dawning of a new era. His pets were beyond loyal to him now, knowing only his hand in comfort and discipline. Accidental magic started so early in those born to muggles, after all. Besides, what muggle would want a wolf for a child when those filthy creatures hadn’t even wanted him as an innocent child?

“Master,” the low rumble of his pet’s voice stirred him from his dark thoughts and back to the here and now. His fingers kept a steady rhythm even as he turned to regard the werewolf he kept by his side more often than not.

“Yes, Hermione?” She was one of few to keep her given name, it wasn’t as common as the others he had ordered turned in the past. It was one reason she was his favorite pet, as well.

“We shall follow your orders to the grave, master. Simply allow us the honor of doing your will.” The low growl of her voice made him grin. She had been one of the first turned, stolen right from under her well to do muggle parents noses as they sat having lunch in London and not minding their curious daughter well enough. She had walked right up to him as he was plotting destruction of the area and tugged at his robes. Her mud colored hair and eyes making him sneer until she reached for his wand, the red sparks of a spell escaping the end of the yew wood.

His own eyes flashing the same color, Voldemort had abandoned his plans and snatched her up in his arms, and disapparated with the child straight to an aging werewolf that owed him.

She had been turned that first full moon at only 3 years old, and had been by his side ever since. A well placed crucio could stop a fully grown werewolf after all, let alone a pup seeking to test their fangs and claws. It also helped his animagus form was that of a boa constrictor, a child was simple to train and control with the threat of being crushed to death if they displeased you.

“Very well, Hermione, lead your pack and bring me back new recruits, either willing or by force.” The breathy chuckle escaping the Dark Lord’s throat had Hermione preening a bit. It was so rare anyone was able to please her master in the slightest after his return to physical form. To do so was an even greater honor.

.:’:. ‘:.:’ .:’:.

Hermione stalked along the outskirts of a small wizarding village, her glowing amber eyes peeking through the leaves of the bushes she had claimed as hers for the night. She was tasked with bringing Fenrir Greyback to her master, and she would not fail. The man, Greyback, had been a champion dueler in his younger years, and the Dark Lord wanted that strength on his side.

The others of her pack, all teenagers but a couple just reaching their twenty-third year like she was, were each tasked with bringing forth an offering to their master by the night following the next full moon. Hermione had claimed the strongest for herself while Dean, the closest in age, was tasked with the Order’s lap dog, Lupin.

He too had been turned as a child, but had escaped the Dark Lord because of Greyback.

Dean was to play on the other man’s heart, spinning a tale of all the bitten children who just wanted out. The Creevey brothers were with him, to help play up the story even more. Despite their childlike faces and quivering lips, they were two of the most bloodthirsty during the full moon. Dean however, was the best of altering things to suit his needs, even having been the one to design a mark for the pack.

Similar to the Dark Mark, this one was strictly for the wolves so they would be docile and obedient to Lord Voldemort while slathering beasts, yet still connected and able to be summoned at a moment’s notice.

The skull of a wolf rested over the bite marks of each werewolf, seeing as each were bitten in the same place, with a snake curling from its mouth to around their bicep, squirming just over their skin and hissing at any that did not bare the mark of their master. When summoned or to return to their master’s side, the snake would strike, acting as a permanent one way portkey.

Each wolf wore theirs with pride, but Hermione made certain hers was on display more often than not. It also served to hide the bite itself, though that awful Order knew what it meant. They had been hunting her pack for ages, though she normally made certain to be the one they fought, leaving her pack safe from being exposed.

Though just as Hermione was ready to give up this section for the night, her target swaggered out of a pub, laughing even as he wiped blood from his lip.

With a decidedly wicked smirk, Hermione crouched down further and crawled toward the brawny wizard. He smelt heavily of cheap drink and smoke, the firewhiskey lingering around him making Hermione shiver in delight. These ones always tasted the best when she tore into them.

Moving silently, her gifted wand erecting wards and barriers even as they moved further out of the village and toward the cottages further out. She didn’t want any distractions, or any would be hero she would be forced to deal with either.

Right outside of his cottage, after watching him lower his wards and unlock his door, Hermione struck. Leaping upon the much larger wizard, she sent them tumbling into the entry. Crashing through the small table and whatever else he had there, the near feral female rolled off him heartbeats before his large hands would have gripped and thrown her across the room.

It was dark inside, the curtains drawn and the moonlight nearly non-existent behind the cloud cover that night. So while Fenrir was cursing and stumbling over the broken bits of his house, Hermione slid along the floor just as silently as outside, her eyes easily picking out the shattered wood and broken bits he was tripping and sliding on.

“Lumos!”

“Expelliarmus!” Just as his gruff and drink roughened voice called out the spell her own had his wand sailing through the air toward her. Before it got far, however, he was snatching it back and firing off a curse in her direction.

Hermione rolled out of the way and sent her own spell even as she kept moving, taking the moment to keep out of his direct line of fire. She may have been a werewolf and resilient against most spells, but having been the pet of the Dark Lord she knew spells could still damage her kind.

“What kind of joke is this?!” Fenrir demanded, grabbing a broken chair leg and hurling it toward where he assumed she was even as he fired off three spells in quick succession.

“I don’t joke,” Hermione growled, a slicing hex having caught the outside of her hip and leaving what amounted to a paper cut across her skin. While not deadly, it was still aggravating.

“Who are you?” He demanded, throwing more things and smirking at her grunt when a rather large bit of debris hit her on her off arm.

“I come bearing a message, one you will not refuse.” Hermione didn’t answer his question, preferring instead to cut to the chase. “My master wishes for your cooperation, though his patience wears thin the longer you refuse. You have two days to decide. After that, you’ll see me again. Decide well, Greyback.” Without waiting for a reply, she sent a reducto at his floor and left in the chaos as he dived out of the way, grunting at the impact of slamming what remained of his floor.

.:’:. ‘:.:’ .:’:.

Two nights later found Hermione leaning against a tree just outside the wards of Fenrir’s home, her glowing eyes and vicious smirk the first thing the large man noticed. Next was the single strapped top she was wearing, her mark on display and drawing his attention quickly. Turning with a sneer with the intentions of berating the chit, Fenrir noticed just how tiny she truly was. The top of her bushy head barely would skim his chest, though the lean muscles had his brow raising in disbelief.

“Surely some self proclaimed ‘dark lord’ knows to send a competent opponent to bring me to his side.” Crossing his own arms, though his wand was being idly spun between his fingers, Fenrir honestly thought the girl before him was an insult.

Narrowing her eyes, Hermione let a soft growl escaped her throat at the insult to her master.

“You truly don’t know a thing, do you, Greyback?” She spat his name as though she was forced to praise Albus Dumbledore. The widening of his eyes made it worthwhile, however.

“You!” Pulling his wand, he went to throw a spell at her when she flicked her own wand, vines wrapping around his legs and flinging him to the ground. A barking laugh and she had his wand.

“Yes, me, taking down a champion duelist when I never even had a formal education. Funny, isn’t it, what my master can do. He personally trained me, you know. He can train you as well, if only you come willingly.” There was a coo to her voice, a false sweetness to her face.

Fenrir, however, wasn’t fooled for a second and attempted wandless magic. It bounced off of Hermione and fell harmlessly to the ground, the baby flame snuffed out under her boot. As was Fenrir’s confidence he was getting out of this mess.


	2. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anything you recognize from the Harry Potter world is not mine. Only the idea behind this story belongs to me.

Remus Lupin was uncertain about the three young men before him, sensing the monster lurking under their skin much like his own. However, he had been given the chance to make something of his life outside of a pack under the control of You-Know-Who, something they didn't. The two younger boys looked broken down and weak. The older boy, Dean he had said his name was, look hardened.

If their story was true, though, there was hundreds of children just like them being kept as pets and weapons.

"Please, the young ones just need a chance to get out of there. It's too late for some of us older ones, we haven't ever known any other life, but others like the Creeveys deserve a chance." Dean spoke seemingly from the heart, but the Order had been dealing with werewolf attacks for years now. They barely trusted Remus, less lone a bunch of kids who had only known the hand of the Voldemort.

"I'm not sure," Remus started, frowning as he crossed his arms. He had been on patrol when he located the three, the oldest patching up the younger two with poorly made potions and salves. From the scars covering their arms and chest, he would wager this was a common occurrence.

"Please, the youngest is only six years old, the one before died from the bite and was four." Dean was even pleading with the older werewolf, knowing that unless you grew up in a pack your sense of smelling subtle lies was weak.

The information about the youngest grabbed at Remus' heart, a pained grimace contorting his face. Dean was biting back a howl of triumph. There he was, hook, line and sinker.

.:':. ':.:' .:':.

Having tied the wizard to a rather nice chair inside of his cottage, Hermione placed both wands and the bobble holding her hair in a tangled bun on a side table before stalking towards him. She looked a wild thing, and the dagger in her hands added danger of the highest degree. Shaking her curls free of the knot, Hermione raised the dagger and cut away the open flannel shirt covering Fenrir's chest.

"Just say the word and I stop," Hermione breathed against his ear, her free hand tangling in his long hair and tugging his head back.

"I won't cower to a bitch like you!" He spat, trying to pull free but instead only yanking his hair loose in her fist.

Rather than being upset, Hermione just chuckled deep in her throat as she leaned forward again and sank her teeth into his shoulder through his flannel.

"I am a bitch, yes, but I'm top bitch and you're just a weak wizard. Come on, don't you want to be feared? To be truly powerful?" There was blood leaking from the wound even as she licked her lips, grinning at the ragged pants Fenrir was expelling through gritted teeth.

She could see the hunger in his eyes even as she tugged his hair back again just to see his throat strain. She was nearly getting off just from dominating who assumed he was an alpha male. It made her all tingly inside.

"I'd rather have respect than be feared!" Fenrir spat, actually spat at Hermione in his rage. A brighter flash of gold had Hermione snarling and leaning into his face. Her hot breath spanning his skin and making him shiver.

"Oh, you don't know true fear yet. But you want respect? Lead. You hide out here in this village, drinking and brawling in pubs, that's not respect, that is complacency." A growl accompanied the last word as she snapped at his face even as she released him.

Stepping back, she twirled her dagger before drawing a thin line down the center of Fenrir's chest. At his hiss, she smirked wickedly and then cut just above both of his nipples, watching the blood well up.

"Fucking bitch!" He screamed, yanking hard at his restraints and throwing his head back in pain.

"Mm, I love the smell of blood. But I love the taste even more," dipping her head down, Hermione lapped at the beads of blood, nipping at his skin even as her tongue soothed and healed the shallow cuts.

Panting now, Fenrir looked at the girl with a mixture of lust and loathing. Lust because it's been so long since he last shagged a decent bird, and loathing because she was a beast hiding in human skin.

"Taste the darkness, Fenrir Greyback, and see just what you are missing." Tipping his head back, Hermione forced a kiss and kept eye contact, sending her memories into his mind to show just what he could have if he joined them.

While a fully trained witch or wizard could have done it any other number of ways, Hermione only knew this way to share information without the other person entering her mind the traditional way. She needed a tether to them beyond simply touching them with her fingers, and she had discovered kisses to form a temporary bond, just enough to share what she wanted.

When she pulled back, Fenrir had blood on his teeth from her kiss and a gleam in his eyes.

"Alright girl, you and your Dark Lord, you have a deal. My wand for the war."

"What of your fangs?" Hermione gave a question even as she vanished his ties, settling onto his lap as he rubbed the soreness from his wrists. "Your claws?" She added, leaning forward and running her tongue along his throat. "Your viciousness?" Here a nip on his pulse.

"Those," he growled, though in poor mimicry of her own, "I'd rather use on you." Running his hands up her thighs, gripping his fingers into the loose material of her bloomers. While her outfit made little sense to him, he couldn't help but be great she was basically in undergarments.

A deep chuckle rumbled in her chest as she rocked against his growing bulge in his trousers, nipping at his skin even as her fingers dipped down to undo the fastenings and running her claws down his trail of hair teasingly.

"You are mine, Fenrir, welcome to the Pack," and with a flash of a dark gold light, they were no longer in his home,but instead sprawled on the floor of the throne room.

They were slightly surrounded, mostly older teenagers and a few young adults like Hermione. What stood out the most, was the old wolf seated on a wooden chair next to the throne.

Hermione stood seamlessly from where she was straddling Fenrir and moved toward the grizzled old wolf, nuzzling against the old man's throat before moving to join her fellow wolves below the dais.

The old wolf didn't acknowledge Hermione, instead standing and making his way to the floor to look over Fenrir where he was trying to stand and keep his eye on everyone present. Fenrir didn't do a good job, considering he was completely surrounded.

"So you are the one my pup was sent after." The wolf's voice was a pure growl, giving very little note of even being part human. "I guess you'll do. A bit old for my tastes, but what the Dark Lord wants the Dark Lord gets." While speaking he was looking Fenrir over before throwing a glance at Hermione, a cruel grin stretching his thin lips over jagged fangs.

"One of the younger pups are bringing our wands, I didn't want to risk him trying to get away before we're through here." Hermione spoke up, the first time since their arrival. She was leaning on one of the other girls, running her fingers through the long blonde hair.

"You tricked me!" Fenrir screamed, tugging his shirt closed and wincing at the tugging of his still weeping cuts. Not only was the pain distracting But it was no longer arousing and his cock was quickly deflating because of his current situation.

"Oh, I'll still shag you, Fenrir, but you have to pass a test first." Hermione tossed his way, nuzzling the girl she was against and giving that same little growling purr he involved in her not long ago.

"What kind of bloody test?" Fenrir was uneasy asking, and her answering look made it doubly so.


	3. 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anything you recognize from the world of Harry potter does not belong to me, only the idea behind this AU is mine.

"Oh, nothing to difficult, just some manual labor without your magic to help. Chopping wood, building a shelter for the pack, things like that," Hermione tossed his way, still nuzzling the girl before moving to lick at her pulse point.

Fenrir scowled at the information, not that it was doing much good, right as he had an wood ax tossed at him. Barely managing to catch it, he growled and turned to one of the males nearby.

"So, where do I start?"

"Follow me, handsome," Hermione grinned, finally removing herself from the other female and stalking off through the other werewolves. They parted, though they all curled their lip when Fenrir walked past. Hermione might have claimed him, but he wasn't a wolf and he wasn't a marked Death Eater, so he was nothing more than a human until one or the other happened far as they were concerned.

.:':. ':. :' .:':.

Dean was having much less luck with his own task. Lupin was still highly suspicious to the point Dean was fighting back growls every single time the older werewolf drew near. At least they were having interactions with the Order now, even if restricted. The Creevey boys were having better luck with The Chosen One, Harry Potter. They were playing the awestruck hero worshipping game, and while it made the older boy uncomfortable it was easier for him to deal with than a werewolf with a chip on his shoulder.

Dean couldn't stand the human whelp, he was too oblivious to the world around him. Had Hermione taken this task, she'd have eaten him alive the first day. Then again, this was why Dean himself was chosen for the Order infiltration instead of their chosen alpha female. Dean was better at hiding his emotions, had been trained too, where as Hermione had been trained to act on rage and anger. It was what their Lord and Master wanted, and the roles suited both werewolves perfectly.

Didn't mean, of course, Dean was going to let himself be run over like a fresh turned pup. He was one of the betas of the pack, after all.

Then again, the Order did have one thing the pack didn't. Seamus Finnigan was a pyro if Dean had ever met one. His flair of setting any and everything on fire rivaled that of a few Death Eaters he'd ran across over the years. He'd even studied under one for awhile, though the Creevey brothers were better at elemental magics than he was, their odd sibling bond helping with that, to balance each other out more with the more primal nature of the wolf.

"Dean, ye wanna grab a pint with meh?" There was his in with the Irishman, Dean grinned, turning to answer the suggestion with a near feral light to his eyes.

"Sure, mate, I could do with getting out of this room for a pint. Though I could do with something with a bit more…" Here he trailed off to look the shorter man over, licking his bottom lip quickly before finishing, "fire."

Inside he was chuckling at how easily flustered Seamus was, his complexion quickly turning red as he shoved his hands into Muggle jeans. If the dark skinned were wasn't mistaken, it was to tug the denim away from his body for a reason. Oh yes, Dean could easily work with this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone reading and reviewing, following and favoriting! Also special thanks to NauticalParamour for reading this over for me!


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